


shut up

by incandescent (lmeden)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, Gen, Pre-Series, Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/incandescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam moves in at Stanford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shut up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coyotesuspect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotesuspect/gifts).



“Why did you bring this with you?” Dean draws the stuffed tiger out of the box, its paw held gingerly between the tips of two of his fingers, and wrinkles his nose at it. 

Aghast, Sam stares. “I didn’t! I don’t even know—” His jaws snaps closed and he stares at Tiger, the spectre of his childhood that has been forcibly brought back to life by his brother. 

Dean lifts the mangy stuffed animal high. Its colors have faded from the vibrant orange and black of Sam’s memories to a dirty tan and grey, the stripes uneven on the matted hair. Stained stuffing sticks out of the gaping seams. Sam hasn’t seen Tiger in _years_. He would certainly never bring it to Stanford with him. 

“Oh,” Dean says with a smile. “I think you did bring it.” He tosses Tiger to Sam, who might flail a bit before managing to snag one of the flying legs, but who will never admit it. 

“No…” Sam starts, the sixth sense that he has when it comes to Dean flaring up. 

“You look so good together, Sammy!” Dean exclaims, loud enough to make Sam wince and glance back to make sure the door to his dorm is closed. The others in the hall are laughing, too busy moving their stuff into their rooms to care about Sam and Dean.

Still. He turns back to Dean. “What are you doing?” he hisses. 

Dean laughs and steps close. He swings an arm over Sam’s shoulder. Sam tries to pull away but misses his chance. He shoulders his brother’s weight unwillingly. 

“I’m just getting you all situated here in college, Sammy.”

“Stop calling me that,” Sam groans, the familiar plea rolling off his tongue. His cheeks burn with embarrassment. At least his roommate isn’t here yet to see this. 

“This is a new world, after all,” Dean proclaims, with a grand gesture that encompasses the entirety of the tiny dorm room – painted cinderblock walls, utilitarian bed-and-desk combination, too-bright halogen bulbs, and the window small enough to be prison-legal. “We must christen it with your reputation.”

“I… what?” Sam finally manages to pull away and shoves Tiger into one of the open boxes on top of the bed, out of sight. He’s utterly lost track of Dean’s train of thought, as usual. 

Striding toward the door, Dean says, “I plan to introduce this entire dorm to my poor, lonely brother, who grew up practically homeless and parentless and has never, and I mean _never_ , so much as touched a woman—”

“Woah, woah!” Sam dives forward and pushes Dean back, shoving him against the half-opened door and forcing it closed. “You’re crazy, Dean. Just because you never got to go to college—”

“I never _wanted_ to go,” Dean snarls, and pushes him off. 

Sam stumbles back, glaring. His heart pounds as he watches Dean’s amusement melt into something much darker and more dangerous. Outside the residence hall, someone bursts into a loud, raucous laugh that carries up to Sam’s window. He glances briefly into the darkness outside, then back to his brother. He forces himself to sigh. It’s been a long day.

“Why did you come?” he asks, exhausted. 

Dean grimaces, then shrugs. “Just wanted to see you, Sammy. That a crime?”

Sam narrows his eyes at his brother and considers him. 

There is a _click_ almost too quiet to be heard and the lights suddenly go out, plunging them into complete darkness. Sam feels himself freeze, hardening with tension. After a tense pause in which Sam considers the likelihood of some kind of shit going down that is definitely more up Dad or Dean’s alley than his, a chorus of shouts and groans echoes down the hall. 

He huffs a laugh and forces himself to relax. Nothing. Just a normal blackout. 

Normal.

“Okay,” he mutters to himself, turning around and heading for where he thinks the bed is. He stumbles as his foot knocks against something. He falls forward. 

Dean’s grabs him and hauls him back upright. Heart pounding, Sam blinks into the darkness and tries to catch his breath. The palms of his brother’s hands are hot through his shirt, and Sam lets that steady him. 

Then he steps away. The power hasn’t come back yet, but his eyes are beginning to adjust. He heads toward the faint shadows that mark the edge of the bed and settles onto it. Dean follows more smoothly, walking as if it’s bright as day in the room. Sometimes Sam wonders if Dean’s adventures with Dad have changed him permanently. 

“This sucks ass,” Dean mutters. “Stuck in a room with no TV and no chicks.” He lands on the bed next to Sam with a thump.

“Well,” Sam drawls, “you’ve got me.”

Dean snorts. He shifts, then begins to laugh. The sounds starts as a soft chuckle and then pours out of him, loud and echoing in the dark room. There isn’t even the soft buzz of a streetlamp outside to cut through his happiness. 

“What?” Sam asks. “What’s so funny?” His voice rises and he turns on Dean, who has fallen back onto the bed, hands over his face. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks again, reaching out to shake Dean. 

“You,” Dean gasps. “You are.”

“I am not!” Sam exclaims, almost angry. 

Dean reaches up and grabs him, pulling him down onto the half-made bed beside him. Sam’s head bounces off the mattress and his teeth click together.

“You are,” Dean whispers, and holds him tight, “the funniest person I know.” His tone is sincere and quiet, as if he’s making a confession. Sam is almost certain that Dean has never done such a thing in his life. 

“Well…” 

He can’t say that Dean depresses him sometimes, that seeing the person that his brother has grown into frightens him. Sam can’t tell him that he’s scared that if he doesn’t get out now, that if he doesn’t throw himself into this new life at Stanford, then one day he’ll look in the mirror and see Dean looking back. 

Right now, though, Dean’s hands are warm. In the darkness, Sam can pretend that they’re little again, left on their own and without a worry besides what’s on TV tonight.

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean murmurs. 

Not for the first time, Sam wonders if Dean worries about those same things.


End file.
